The Birthday List(31)

She may as well have said, “End of discussion.” Not that I would have pressed anyway. I couldn’t imagine how hard it would be for her to think about that night, let alone talk about it. And with a restaurant full of people, tonight wasn’t the time for a recap.

If she ever wanted to talk about that night, I’d be all ears. If she never wanted to speak of it again, that was fine too.

“I hear you’re saying yes to everything today?” I chased a bite of macaroni with some water.

She nodded, smiling again as she chewed.

“A guy could take advantage of that.”

Her chewing stopped and her blue eyes snapped to mine.

“Me, for example. I could use this to get exactly what I want.”

I didn’t miss the way her eyes flared, and damn, it was sexy. If things were farther along—if this were a year from now and we were in a different place—I could have used this game to have her moaning yes all night long. But we weren’t there, and I wasn’t a complete asshole.

But I did love to tease.

“Poppy,” I whispered, leaning closer.

Her breaths were shallow as she waited.

“Will you bring me both the mixed berry and the apple pie?”

She blinked twice, then a hand flew over her mouth—still full of salad—covering it as she laughed. “Yes.”

I grinned, sitting back in my chair and digging into my food. “Maybe you can tell me more about this list too? It seems like every time I see you you’re on to something new.”

Her hand fell. “You really want to know?”

“I really want to know.”





Cole’s interest in Jamie’s birthday list surprised me. No one but me had ever gotten excited about the list since Jamie had died, but Cole was genuinely curious. And eager, maybe? Whatever it was, I liked the sparkle it added to his eyes.

“Okay, um . . .” The best way for me to explain everything on the list was just to hand over the journal, except no one but me and Jamie had ever touched it before. Would it be strange to let Cole read it? Would that have bothered Jamie? I smiled to myself. No. Jamie had been so proud of his list, he’d have plastered it on a billboard.

“Be right back.” I held up a finger to Cole, then got up from the table and walked to the register. Leaning over the counter, I dug through my purse, which I’d stashed underneath the register. When my fingers brushed leather, I pulled out Jamie’s journal, stroking the cover once before standing back up.

The second I turned back to our table, I found Cole’s gaze locked on the place where my ass had just been. His eyes were darker, the spark behind them now a blaze. He didn’t even try to hide it as his gaze traced up my stomach and over my breasts. He lingered a bit on my chest, drawing out his inspection, until he finally continued to my face. When his stare found my lips, I fought the urge to lick them. When he found my eyes, I didn’t want to blink.

Sexy. Cole was the epitome of sexy. The sexiest man I’d ever seen.

No, not Cole. Jamie. What was wrong with me? I blinked, forcing my eyes away from Cole’s as I mentally chastised myself again. Jamie was the sexiest man I’d ever seen. Jamie. My husband.

Cole was just new. That’s why I found him so attractive. I hadn’t spent years with him, studying his face and finding flaws. I bet if I looked at him long enough, I’d realize that his ears were kind of pointed and his eyebrows were on the bushy side. And he had to have some imperfections underneath his jeans and black polo. No one was that cut—not in real life.

If I spent the time with Cole, like I had with Jamie, I’d realize he wasn’t an Adonis. He was just a man. A man who wasn’t Jamie.

A man who was now looking at me with furrowed eyebrows—which weren’t bushy at all.

I unglued my sneakers from the floor and walked back to the table, holding out the journal for Cole. “Here. This was Jamie’s birthday list.”

He looked at it for a moment, not taking it from my outstretched hand. “Are you sure?”

I gave him a sad smile, glad that he understood how much trust I was giving him. “Go ahead.”

Cole wiped his hands on a napkin before he took the book, then he carefully opened the cover. I sat back down, concentrating on my meal as he slowly flipped through the journal, and did my best not to stare with every swish of a turning page. Every once in a while, he’d let out a small chuckle. On other pages, I’d catch him frowning—I doubted he liked the fire alarm item.

When he reached the end, Cole surprised me by going back to the beginning, starting again.

“I’ll get dessert.”

Cole didn’t glance up from the journal. “Thanks.”

Clearing my plate and his, I went back to the kitchen and put the dishes in the sink. Then I went back out front to get Cole’s desserts in the oven. Molly was busy clearing a couple of tables so I took a few moments to breathe and watch the timer on the oven tick down.

I’d figured out a way to partially bake my minipies when I was prepping them so that when a customer came in, they only had to wait five minutes instead of twenty. They weren’t quite as good as they were completely fresh, but the only person who knew the difference seemed to be me.

So for the five minutes that Cole’s pies were baking, I did my best to settle the anxiety that had grown ever since I’d handed him the journal.